Losing My Religion
by Obskura
Summary: Ludwig is several years too late in questioning his beliefs and goals as Ivan's soldiers take over Berlin. With another war lost, he loses his brother and beloved country. M for language.
1. Chapter 1

...

Behind where he sat hung the torn-in-half flag of Germany's former glory.

There was nothing he or his comrades could do. Their boss was dead, and the Russians were overtaking the Germans at the Berlin frontlines. Many times over, German soldiers urged Ludwig, free of Feliciano after telling him to leave after hearing the desperate situation in the Motherland, to get out of Germany while he still could. Still very much a fool, he had declined, saying they still had a fighting chance; Germans were strong, fierce people. And valiently they fought, but they were too weak and low on soldiers even with children from the Youth joining in on the last stand. Ludwig saw first hand how badly things were looking for Germany before seeking refuge in the Leader's former bunker.

So much for "No more 1918!"

Only the most loyal of the Reich remained in the bunker, many having fled or killed themselves instead of facing failure. Ludwig sat in a corner of a room, looking somberly at his boots, the other men in the room silent with despair. Just four years ago, Germany was _invincible_! They were at the top of the world! The other countries feared Germany! And now, the superior country lied in ruin. Shouts and artillery fire was heard from above, the ones still faithful to the Reich's fallen cause but were too stupid to realize all was lost. The door burst open, and Ludwig lifted his head.

"Vhy aren't you up there?" the young soldier demanded at all soldiers present. "Ve can still-"

"It's a futile campaign!" The older man growled. "Can't you fucking see it? Vhat is sere left for us to fight for? Seh only option left is to surrender!"

"_NEIN_!" the soldier cried, his voice bouncing off the concrete walls. "How can _you_ of all people say sat?"

_You of all people_. Ludwig was forced to think back to the year of 1934. How enthusiastic he had been when his boss became the sole leader of the country! Younger, excited about Germany's new beginning and future. He had more than willingly enlisted in the newly rebuilt military when he was old enough. How damn proud he was, really believing Germans were far superior to everyone else, and taking part in the widespread discrimination of those "inferior" to "pure Germans." He even took part in snatching half of Poland and overtaking France. He'd left the frontlines to work behind them, getting caught up with Feliciano and Kiku and the other shenannigans. During all that time, he kept his "Germans are superior" attitude, honestly believing Germany's future to be a powerful blonde, blue-eyed nation, as well as the rest of the world once they'd taken it. That was eleven years ago. Now...it was too painful to think about.

"Vell?" the young man snapped.

"Leave, now," said another voice. Gilbert, whom had been next to his brother, shoved the boy out of the room and slammed the door shut. The room vibrated as a tank rolled over, firing off. The older brother took his seat once more. He patted Ludwig's shoulder comfortingly with no positive reaction.

"How stupid ve-I vas to actually believe in him," Ludwig shook his head. "Sat ve vere seh powerful race. Seh vorld vould be at our feet after ve conquered it. It vasn't vorth it, Gil. Eleven years of my life, out seh damn vindow!"

"Don't talk like sat," Gilbert said.

Ludwig fought back tears. "Sings were going so _wunderbar_! But now...vhat vos every-vone sinking? He vos a vierdo vis radical ideas. And..."

"Yah?" questioned Gilbert.

"...I-I just vanted you to be proud of me for vonce..." The blonde could only mumble his response.

Gilbert let out a soft chuckle.

"Vest, I _am_ proud of you!" he said. "Two times you tried to take seh vorld, and the second time you _almost_ succeeded! You fought like a true soldier, but just lost your vey along the journey."

As Ludwig looked into his brother's face, he saw the unmistakable glitter of an older brother's pride. for the first time in over a month, the blonde genuinely smiled. They embraced in a tight hug, not caring what the others in the room thought. Ludwig finally heard what he had always wanted to hear from his older brother. Tears managed to leak from his ocean blue eyes, yet he didn't prevent them from falling. Tank booms, gunfire, and shouting from above seemed louder than ever.

"I vish I could take everysing back. Vhy did I so foolishly believe it all?" he sobbed.

"He promised a bright future; every-vone vos fooled," soothed Gilbert, lightly rubbing his brother's trembling back.

Again, the door opened and Ludwig and Gilbert let go of each other so they could see who had entered. Their insides dropped as Ivan and his troops entered the room. The other Germans around all made some sort of racket; some took out their Lugers and pulled the trigger; some burst into tears. None made any attempt to fend off the Russians. For a moment, the room was silent minus the sniffling or yells of anger from the men. Ivan's face was in a mocking grin as his cold eyes swept the room. Then the violet orbs fell upon the brothers.

"Havink a good day?" Ivan grinned sweetly. "You surrender now."

Many German soldiers tried to flee the room while a few more Lugers went off. Ludwig and Gilbert were forced to their feet as Ivan took them into custody.

Germany had lost the war. Again.

And things from there on in were not going to get any easier.


	2. Chapter 2

...

"_Wo ist mein bruder_?" Ludwig snapped as Ivan came through the door. Since the surrender in the bunker a week before, the Russians moved everyone to the old SS headquarters. Ivan made sure to strip all the Germans of any weapons or communication from one another, explaining why Ludwig sat in an old office alone. He and Ivan held a moment's glare; logic told Ludwig that Ivan wasn't very fond of him. Yeah? Well vice versa, pal.

"Come again?" the sweet-faced Russian asked.

"Vhere is my brosser!" the German said angrily in English.

"Hm, no tears this time. I confess myself to be disappointed, German," Ivan grinned.

Ludwig felt his anger boil as Ivan chuckled at him, mocking him and his pain...  
He spat at Ivan's boots.

"You'll never have seh satisfaction of seeing more weakness, you Red fucker!"

BAM!

The angry German man held on tight to the desk behind him as the impact of the punch threw him off balance. That was it, he wasn't going to let this slip. Ludwig had put up with the humiliation for a week and he was sick of it. Sick of the Reds terrorizing his fellow Germans, the familiar taunts of showing German soldiers how to make the perfect noose "just in case", making demeaning jokes to them, rubbing the loss of a second war in their faces, assaulting the women...How their shrieks and cries for help kept Ludwig up at night knowing he could do nothing for them being held and guarded in the tarnished building. Ludwig regained himself and went to attack Ivan, but the Russian was too fast. He'd grabbed Ludwig's right arm, twisted it around his back and with his free hand slammed Ludwig's head onto the desk. He was helpless, forced into an embarrassing position with his arm and head aching; he didn't dare struggle.

"Do you not realize the only thing standing between you and death is _m_e?" Ivan breathed in his ear. "I could slit your damned throat right now and make it look like an accident. You're lucky Arthur's on his way."

With that, he let go, slamming Ludwig's head against the desk once more before taking his leave. Ludwig's head spun as he lay on his back. He wiped away the blood trickling from his lip and nose wishing that Ivan had carried out his threat. Arthur was getting even more involved. And wherever Arthur was, that ADHD freak would be there, too. Nothing was worth it anymore. Yelps of pain from another room somewhere told Ludwig one of his men faced abuse. The Russians' vow for "revenge" was ridiculous. But didn't the Germans deserve it? Turning his head slowly, the broken soldier stared across the paper-strewn floor. Secret police orders, POW information, camp records...Why hadn't they destroyed these _sooner_? Would have, could have, _should_ have.

When Arthur arrived, he gaped at Ludwig as if he were some rabid animal. The tension coming from him was thick enough to cut. He must've, like so many others, seen the camps and their prisoners. Arthur said very little to Ludwig in the beginning but as the hours wore on, he came into Ludwig's room again and closed the door. Keeping his distance, the Englishman pulled the only chair in the room to him and sat down. Ludwig remained in his dark corner, watching. Arthur tried several times to say something, only to close his mouth and rub his hands together. Finally, words came to him.

"Ludwig," the Brit said, "do you realize...I don't think you know how much _trouble_ you're in this time."

"I do," Ludwig replied quietly.

"Do you? _Do you_? What have you done? H-how could you condone such atrocities? Tho-"

"Stop, please. I-I don't vant to hear anymore!"

"I won't!" Arthur cried. "Even the Americans, they-no amount of shock therapy will rid anyone of what was seen! And-and the pictures!"

Arthur dug into his coat pocket and threw a stack of photos on the floor. Pictures from before and after experiments & body piles and open mass graves, the prisoners scattered on the floor. The faces of the emaciated deceased as well as the living bore into Ludwig's brain. Tears brimming in his eyes, he bent his head low, avoiding eye contact with Arthur. He could feel the Englishman's eyes on him, waiting. It seemed just yesterday he had believed this was necessary for the new and better Germany and even filled out paperwork for the construction of the camps and the transports, excited for the demise of the inferiors...the filthy Jews, homosexuals, gyspies...

"Because they were 'inferior' to your nonexistent 'master race' it was okay to do _that_? What kind of sick, twisted-"

The Brit stopped upon hearing sniffling noises coming from Ludwig. Arthur readjusted himself in the chair and stayed silent. He let Ludwig curl up into himself and cry. Even if he was absolutely disgusted with the German, a small part in Arthur felt sorry for him. The Germans tried so hard to win this war, to redeem themselves in their own eyes just to fail and dig themselves into a far deeper hole than before. Once again their pride as a nation crumbled.

Deciding it was better to leave, Arthur stood up and crossed over to the door.

"When Alfred gets back from his war against Japan...just be prepared."

The door closed. Ludwig thought about his friend, Kiku, whom was fighting in the Japanese campaign against America. As determined as the Japanese were, the Americans were also very fierce fighters. He couldn't help but worry; Americans victories against the Land of the Rising Sun were popping up left and right. Despite these victories, Japan fought on. Neither side was going to surrender. Just as Germany had. Fighting on even though their own defense was weakened. And once again the Germans were being put on trial, only this time things were dim, _very_ dim. Ludwig's stomach clenched with anxiety as he thought about it. More than just demilitarizing parts of the Fatherland was going to happen. He could feel it.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: ALAS! An update! I'm incredibly sorry to everyone for not updating!

...

The mistreatment from the Russians lessened somewhat as the war died down. News of the devastating atomic bombs dropped on Japan by the Americans spread, and Ludwig wondered if Kiku had been somewhere safe during this event. Now Alfred would soon be meeting with him, as well as his fellow German soldiers at a prison where they'd been transferred to. Or rather the ones whom were still alive; many had killed themselves with concealed cyanide pills. A few of them urged Ludwig to do the same, for the Fatherland, but he couldn't do it. Not now, with Ivan keeping a constant eye on him. How the others managed their suicides was a mystery as they were under supervision, too.

When Alfred showed up, there were many people with him. Everyone kept their distance with any German soldiers, as if they'd jump and attack at any second. Ludwig was no different with them. The moment he stood up to greet them in a civil manner, many of the Americans jumped back and clutched their rifles. The German couldn't help but voice his annoyance at their behavior.

"Man up. God damn."

"Ick been yewden_, _Kraut!" one of the Americans behind Alfred taunted in poor German. The lot sniggered until Alfred gave them a stern look and they fell silent. He ordered them to leave the interrogation room for just a moment so he could speak with Ludwig one-on-one. Once they had filed out, Alfred closed the door and Ludwig spoke again.

"Don't bother giving me a lecture. I've heard it all," he snapped.

The American said nothing as he looked him over, taking in the German's tattered uniform and various abrasions. He looked much older and hardened, nothing like his old self. No cheerful bounce in his step, no childish gleam in his blue eyes, no grin on his face. There wasn't even so much as a happy aura around him. He seemed almost depressed, or tortured_._ Just as with everyone else involved, the war had done a number on him. Ludwig's mood came down as he stared at the stoic young man before him. He wished for more than anything that Alfred would snap out of it and go back to his self. To at least be the only one who hadn't changed! Ludwig tried to say something more friendly, but nothing came out. The same thing seemed to Alfred's issue as well. He sighed and walked over to the table, spotting the pictures Arthur had left on his visit. His expression remained blank as he sifted through them.

"What-" Ludwig started as the American's voice broke the silence "-would Feliciano think if he were to see these...he thinks very highly of you, you know."

"I know," Ludwig replied quietly. That sensitive bastard would hate him for life if he saw the pictures.

"_Why_?"

"'Vhy' vhat?"

"This! _This_! Was your lot completely out of their fucking minds to even remotely _think_ this was okay?"

Ludwig gaped at Alfred as he heard the curse fly out of his mouth.

"Trials start soon, and these pretty much seal your fate."

"And with what you did, you're no better than I."

This comeback silenced Alfred. He clenched his teeth and dropped the pictures back onto the desk. He swallowed and nodded his agreement, though he couldn't hide his guilt from his face.

"H-how's Kiku, if you've heard from him?" Ludwig asked.

"Rotting in a cave on Iwo Jima as we speak," Alfred answered to a wall.

What a nice way of putting it, Ludwig thought to himself. He understood the dark feelings toward the Japanese man. After all, his country had attacked the American harbor in Hawaii, killing over two-thousand people. Silence between them stretched over three minutes. Neither could think of any possible nice thing to say to one another. It was uncomfortable just sitting there in the silence, staring at each other when one wasn't looking. After this dragged on longer, Ludwig stared down at his boots. After all the shenanigans they'd gone through with each other and the others, the two had become strangers. Ludwig wondered if it was the same for everyone else. Alfred began talking again, but the German wasn't paying any mind to what he was saying. Why couldn't things just to back to how they were, before the war? Back to the jokes and insanity, when everyone was too scared to even try to mess with the Axis Powers...When did everything go wrong? This question again...

"Please don't think terribly of me," Ludwig blurted out, cutting Alfred off.

"What?" the American looked at him.

"That madman," Ludwig continued, "he was so persuasive and strong, and we were so desperate for a new start. He found someone to blame our losses on; it wasn't our fault. He made us proud again, and powerful. Germany was the epitome of awesome power, we were the masters of the world! Then after eleven years, the Fatherland falls. Now everyone's seeing the cost of the Master Race. And now in your eyes,, we Germans are all bloodthirsty monsters..."

He found himself trying to hold back tears again. Alfred's expression softened as Ludwig tried to hide his sobs. He wasn't sure whether or not to console him. After all, this _could_ be a ploy to get him on his side...But when has Ludwig ever been vulnerable like this, this sincere? The American was sure no German soldier knew what emotions were, as they all looked stoic and harsh in their hay day. He jumped when Ludwig tore his visor cap from his head and threw it at the wall ahead of him. It fell to the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris. His blonde hair, always so perfectly clean and slicked back, fell filthy all around his head and hands as he covered his face to his wet eyes. He began talking, but only quietly to himself in his native language.

Alfred sighed. "I know not all of you are awful people, s'just everyone else doesn't see that right now. Hell, even now I'm sure. You're confusing me with your tears, you know."

A small joke. Ludwig choked out a laugh and glanced up at the American. A wan grin, a shadow of his old self, was on his face. Some light in a very dark time. The German returned the grin; the old cuts from Ivan's abuse stung a little.

"I'll never understand you Americans," he said.


	4. Chapter 4

**...**

The trials were long and painful to watch. Many claimed youthful ignorance, or that they were just doing as they were told; any resistance against orders was followed by death or possibly some other fate. This excuse would lead to the court's reply of, "Others resisted and went against the law, even in the face of death!" and many of Ludwig's comrades stammered for another excuse. Not many of them took personal responsibility for what happened during the war. They were just trying to save their own skins and this fact bothered Ludwig. Then, after the sentencing -many got the death penalty, some actually squirmed away with an acquittal- those found guilty of their crimes produced _more_ cyanide and killed themselves in their jail cells!

On the night before his own trial, a fellow ex-soldier tried to convince Ludwig to take one of these deadly pills. A few times over, the sensible German declined.

"Do it for the Fatherland!" the soldier pushed. "As a _sturmbannfuhrer_, you've seen too much and they can't know _anything_!"

"But they _do_ know everything!" Ludwig growled back.

"Then do it so they won't get further information! You're going to die anyway, Ludwig!"

Ludwig looked into the other's face after his last sentence. The poor kid had already become unnerved. How long ago was it that Ludwig would have been willing to bite down onto that pill in the name of the Fatherland? To take any secrets he had to the grave? As a Major, he _did_ see and hear far more than the others did during the war. Ludwig also did more...he gulped as he thought about his odds in the trial tomorrow. And Feliciano, he would be there as he'd been the others. He'll hear all about the truth about Ludwig, what a cold-blooded murderer he really was. With these thoughts running through his mind, maybe cyanide wasn't such a bad idea. Heart heavy and feeling quite numb, Ludwig held out a hand for a pill from the young soldier. The young man praised him for coming to his senses and dropped a capsule into his palm.

"On the count of three, then," the soldier said in a shaky voice.

"One, two.."

At three, he bit down after an apprehensive second. He didn't bother to steal a look at Ludwig before taking his own life. A choke, then he slumped over lifeless on the floor. Ludwig sat stock-still with the capsule in his hand. Something in his mind told him not to follow through with his plan. His moment of shock ended and he began to shake uncontrollably and his breath came in gasps.

"Goddammit! Search all the cells now!"

Ludwig jumped at the American voice and the sound of the cell gate opening. Many more Americans, as well as Brits, ran past to investigate everyone else. Alfred came into the cell with the male that had yelled, flanked by another person whom helped the shouter carry out the body after examining it for a few seconds. Alfred sat down across from Ludwig with no telltale expression of what he was feeling at the moment. He reached over and took the capsule from the German's palm and looked it over. Questions ran through Alfred's mind, but he figured now wasn't the time to voice them. He straightened up, patted Ludwig's shoulder in a reassuring way, and walked out as his name was called down the block for help. How many German suicides were going to add up? Even the civilians were offing themselves, some leaving behind children while a small fraction of parents were also taking their childrens' lives. If there was any light at the end of the tunnel, it was nowhere to be seen.

...

There was no possible way for Ludwig to eat the next morning. He was feeling far too sick to even try. Old comrades wished him and other Germans to be tried that day farewell, as their fate was all too obvious. How were they going to kill him? Ludwig thought. Fire squad? Hanging? _Gassing_? He tried to clear his mind of any dark thoughts and think positive. But there was no positive outcome, there could be none. He was escorted out of his cell by Arthur and a couple of other British soldiers and to a car outside.

"Scared to die, prick?" one of the soldiers sneered at him as he climbed into the car. "I'd love to throw you and your friends into an ov-"

"Enough," Arthur growled as he closed the door. He walked around to the passenger side and got in as the car began to move. The ride was a silent one, every now and then a German soldier would pray to himself or turn away as he stifled tears. Ludwig showed no emotion on his part. He was far too numb to even shed a tear or tremble. After all, this _was_ the consequence for practicing such terrible acts against mankind. Comments made by the British men went ignored by him, his former brothers in arms reacting at times during the ride. It was only when a German soldier retaliated violently that Arthur stepped in and ordered his men to remain quiet until they reached the courthouse. Once there, a crowd of photographers from all over swarmed the group getting out of the car, snapping pictures and asking questions. The accused were hurried inside; it was almost time for the trials. Ludwig felt slightly relieved that he wasn't being tried first, but one of the German soldiers, named Wilhelm was.

As the group walked into the courtroom, a familiar cry rang out.

"Ludwig! Ludwig, over here!"

Heart dropping, Ludwig turned to see none other than Feliciano, looking tattered but healthy, close by. Was he the only one who wasn't completely affected by the war?

"Feliciano, you should leave," Ludwig said sadly.

"No! I know you're innocent! You'd never do those things, right?" the Italian replied hopefully. He searched Ludwig's face for some kind of assurance. When Ludwig didn't reply, the light in Feliciano's eyes dimmed. A silent panic coursed through him as tears brimmed his eyes.

"Please my friend, tell me the cruelty you're being accused of isn't true..."

The fallen idol only turned away from the Italian ("It can't be true! Ludwig!" he shouted after the German) and took his seat, waiting for his fate to be decided. The trials ahead of Ludwig were emotional, tense, and dark. Remarkably, some of the Germans were proud of their work and saying they'd do it again if given the chance. Others, like so many before them, gave lame excuses for their actions. It was like a broken record to Ludwig, and he silently fumed about it. He respected the ones who were honest about their behavior no matter how vile they were about it. Death and acquittals became a pattern, but there were a few life sentences in prison. He dared not to turn around to look at Feliciano and upset him even more. He _should_ know by now the truth right? All those times he had to leave him at home for "business" reasons, or the documents he was forbidden to see? Somehow, Ludwig wasn't so sure.

"Bring up Ludwig von Beilschmidt."

He could feel the many eyes burning into his back. Once he swore to oath and sat down, he had no choice but to face the crowd before him. He saw both strange and familiar faces. All were angry or cold as they stared back at him. Ludwig fumbled to reach in his jacket pocket for a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Somewhere in the crowd, a person shouted out, "Murderer!" thus starting the trial.

"You were a Major, correct?" the judge asked.

"Y-yes, I was," Ludwig replied as calmly as he could.

"Awful young, don't you think?"

"I was...good at what I did," the German answered.

Background questions were asked, and he replied decently. Soon, the questions started to take the turn to the more negative aspects of Ludwig's career. More stories of abuse, rape, corruption, and murder surfaced. What he didn't expect were the pictures that were shown, even film reels. Pictures of him rounding up the Jews in the ghettos, the freight trains, finding and rounding up other groups deemed "unsuitable" for Germany's future. The films...oh the films! Ludwig part-taking in beatings, firing squads, rounding up "inferior" children and shutting them in gas vans. In some of the reels, he'd been smiling even laughing. Like a sick son of a bitch.

In the crowd, he saw Feliciano's crest fallen face, tears flowing freely from his eyes. Next to him, was his brother staring coldly up at Ludwig, patting his brother's shoulder comfortingly. The German saw his mouth say, "See? I told you he was a bad man."

"What made you do these horrid things, _Major_?" the judge sneered.

Keeping himself fairly still, Ludwig gave an answer.

"Power. And I was only doing what I was told and thought was right..."

"And how many people would you say you personally killed? How many children you have fathered in the countries you occupied during the war?"

"I don't know. I either lost count or didn't pay attention."

"Very interesting indeed. To you, what did the German regime mean to you? Be honest, Kraut."

_What was the regime to him? _Ludwig had to choose his words carefully. Then again, why should he? He was only going to end up being executed anyway...no, he had to try. Maybe he should just give it a shot_._ If he did -maybe, just maybe- he would be given a less harsh sentence._  
_

"I-it was everything to me. I'd go as far as to say it was my _faith_. Knowing that the Fatherland was becoming better with every inferior being killed, it excited me. It gave me a reason to get out of bed and to do better on the battlefield. And the _thrill_ of doing something so unimaginable, so secretive..._I felt alive. _We Germans were finally superior, and the world feared us, our power! Had we made different decisions, these trials wouldn't be taking place."

Shouts of outrage burst from everywhere in the court. Many were blunt comments of killing Ludwig on the spot, or others doing it themselves. Officials did their best to silence the room before starting again. Where the other German soldiers sat until their turn in the hot seat, a frightened Gilbert mouthed, "What are you doing?" at his brother. 

"With that kind of response, I'm assuming you have no regrets?" Ludwig was asked as everyone settled down.

"Actually, I do," he replied, starting to feel emotions he'd been battling against. "If there's one thing I regret, it is..."

Suddenly, he found his throat clenching and tears blurring his vision.

"...killing children. Th-that is something I couldn't handle. B-but if I refused, _I_ would've been killed for disobeying orders. My drinking increased with every one that disappeared into that van or camp...the fear in their eyes as I tore them from their mothers..."

Whether or not he like it, Ludwig full-out broke into tears, _real_ tears. Nothing like the petty crying he'd done in the last few weeks. Not even the court could dismiss his chokes as an act to save his skin as he sat there with his hands over his face. Thankfully, his trial was wrapping up, and after only a few more questions & a verdict, it'd all be over._  
_


	5. Chapter 5

**...**

Arthur balled his fists and brought them down onto the table, causing a tremor and the glasses of water on the table to jump. Everyone in the jury also started in the Brit's moment of anger.

"God-fucking-dammit, Alfred!" he shouted at the young American. "One little regret does _not_ redeem a man of a career of total wickedness!"

The other jurors mumbled their agreement. Alfred folded his arms, biting his lip. His trademark American stubbornness was in full swing. But he knew an innocent man when he saw one.

"Look, I know he's not just trying to save his ass. He's telling the truth. Ludwig _can_ feel, contrary to what you all believe."

"He was part of the cruelest events the world's ever-"

"What about the Spaniards?"

Now the jury favored Alfred instead of Arthur. They all shrugged at one another making comments and referring to some of the gruesome acts the Spanish were known for hundreds of years ago. They all began debating with each other about the differences or similarities of the Spanish & German crimes against humanity. Alfred raised his eyebrows at Arthur, pleased that things were turning to his favor.

"This was _systematic_ murder, though! Completely different!" Arthur growled.

"Just once can you not argue back?" a juror asked.

Shouting "_Fine!_", Arthur sat back in his chair and folded his arms, a vein in his forehead throbbing. Relief swept over Alfred. He'd just helped save an innocent life. Sure, Ludwig had played a willing part in some the crimes, but he really did seem to regret it. He'd been around the German enough to see it on his face, how he was so unwilling to kill himself to spare any information he had just the night before. Just like everyone else, Ludwig had been sucked into the hype, but realized his mistake far too late. Hopefully he'd be happy to hear the verdict.

**...**

"We find the defendant not guilty."

Like everyone else, Ludwig was in shock of the outcome. In the crowd, Feliciano only hung his head while his brother, Lovino was yelling in outrage. From accusations of money exchanging hands to insults at the jury and the judge, he was louder than everyone else. Then came the inevitable cry of how the verdict insulted Feliks' memory (he had died from a firing squad put together by Ludwig himself after failing to comply with regulations after German occupation); Ludwig clenched his teeth as he tried not to give Lovino the satisfaction of reacting to his comments. He was escorted out of the courtroom by Alfred and three other Americans, only stopping to wish his brother luck. Gilbert tried not to look worried as he gave his brother a wan smile, but his eyes showed the fear.

"Why?" Ludwig asked once safely outside. "You know damn well I'm not innocent..."

"Yes, you are," Alfred replied sternly.

"If he really wants us to, we can kill him right now," one of the Americans said hopefully, bringing up his rifle.

Alfred shot him a cold look. The solider lowered his gun, saying a quiet apology. Quick footsteps were following the entourage, so they stopped to see who it was. Ludwig's heart fell as it turned out to be none other than young Feliciano. He couldn't look the Italian in the eye, but instead at his feet.

"L-Ludwig..." the Italian choked. "Why? What was there to gain?"

When Ludwig refused to answer or even look at him, the young man grew more upset.

"Look me in the eye and tell me! Are you _guilty_ deep down and that's why?"

Finally, Ludwig reluctantly lifted his head. Tears streamed down his old friend's crestfallen face. He was breathing heavily from being so upset and looking into Ludwig's eyes created more tears. He'd been his _hero_; everything he'd wanted to be. So strong and confident, winning battles left and right, the world literally in the palms of his hands. Then he fell from grace after huge blunders and the horrid truth came out. Truths that Feliciano could have gone a lifetime without seeing or hearing about. The truth that revealed just how cold his old friend could be, the same coldness that matched his ice blue eyes. He knew Ludwig could be emotionless at times, but never did he dream it would to the extent which he'd just seen in the courtroom, and now.

"I don't know..." Ludwig finally said.

Disappointment boiled in Feliciano's blood. _I don't know_? He knew perfectly well! The evidence was in the trial! In the moment, he raised his hand and struck Ludwig. He hardly came unbalanced; the German swayed slightly, his eyes twitching from the impact. Alfred intervened as Feliciano went to hit Ludwig again. He ushered him back to the courthouse quickly.

"Things will get worse for you!" Felicano cried. "You-you murderous swine!"

That insult alone hurt the German. He really couldn't explain, or rather he didn't want to. Ludwig wanted nothing more than to disappear from the face of the Earth. The verdict didn't do anyone justice; not him, his fellow Germans, the soldiers, the victims, anyone. He admitted to everything, yet here he was, walking as an innocent man. Where would he go now? His home lay in ruins now from the last-ditch effort to win the war (the last few weeks of the war he'd been living in a bunker). Maybe he'd just go to the foundation to see if there was anything he could salvage while he waited for his brother's trial to end. Yes, that'd help distract him from his nerves. If there is a higher power, he thought, _Bruder_ will be okay. It'd be awful to both lose his home and his brother in such a short time period.**  
**


End file.
